The Reef (12 page)

‘Great, fine. Thanks, Rhonda. I won't be long. We'll have a nightcap and watch the moon rise over the ocean, right?'

‘Right.'
In your dreams, even if we had an
ocean view.
‘Goodnight, everyone,' she nodded to the group and moved quickly away.

‘Thanks, Rhonda, I'm so tired. I hope I'm not dragging you away.'

‘Not at all. I want to use the phone outside reception anyway. Thank Doyley, he figured you were looking a trifle weary. Being your first day and all.'

They left the party and walked quietly, their footsteps muffled on the sandy path.

‘Do you feel safe here?' asked Jennifer. ‘That lecherous old man sounds a bit of a worry.' She glanced around at the shadowy trees, the poorly lit path. She heard rustling in the trees from the birds, and the occasional scratchy sound in the dried leaves and undergrowth.

‘It took me a while. But then I'm not used to living so up-close-and-personal with the wildlife,' said Rhonda. ‘I'm from Dublin. It takes a while to adjust to the fact that you can't run far.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Being on an island. No trains, buses, or winding roads. A boat twice a day. A helicopter in an emergency.' She shrugged. ‘When I first came I was worried about accidents, being cut off, stuck with the same people, all that sort of thing.'

‘I think I'm going through that. And this is only my first day,' said Jennifer rather ruefully.

‘You get over it. I like the relaxed, away-from-it-all atmosphere now. And the birds, the turtles, the whole nature thing. I'll miss it.'

‘When are you leaving?'

‘In two weeks. Family things back home. Sheree is staying though. Well, there's the track to your place that way. Just a hundred metres through the trees. I'm going to the main area. You'll be all right?'

‘Of course, it's not far. But it is dark.'

‘Leave a light on outside your cabin at night.'

‘I will. Thank you, Rhonda.'

‘Goodnight. Sleep well.'

‘I certainly will.' Jennifer hurried, nervous at the quietness around her. Everyone was either in bed or out somewhere. Their cabin was tucked away from it all. She now wished they had neighbours in residence. She tripped as she hurried up the step onto the small deck and reached for the sliding door. Maybe they shouldn't leave the place unlocked. She fumbled for the light switch and as the pale glow lit the main room, she slid the door shut and pulled the curtain across it, glad that the ceiling fan was whirring gently. The light was dim, the power was not strong, probably from a generator. She turned on all the lights and, tired as she was, for once she longed for a TV set to keep her company. Then she remembered Vi and Don's satellite radio. She decided to have a shower, get into bed and see if she could tune it to whatever band reached Branch Island, a dot in the Coral Sea on the edge of the Pacific Ocean.

The sheets were crisp, smooth and cool. Jennifer gave up trying to tune the radio and lay back enjoying the light whoosh of air across her body from the ceiling fan. She left the bedside light on,
thinking she'd read a magazine, but her eyes closed and she drifted to sleep.

She didn't hear Blair come in and slip into bed beside her. He tried not to wake her and in seconds he was in a deep sleep too.

Later, Jennifer thought it must have been around two in the morning, she was jolted awake. Was she dreaming or had she really heard a terrible wail? A baby in unspeakable pain? Someone strangling a cat? She stumbled from bed, crashing into the bedside table in the dark. She found the sliding door handle and wrenched the door open to the small balcony as Blair stirred.

The air was warm. All was silent. Then it came, close, so close she jumped in fright. A guttural agonised wail. Another. And another.

‘What the hell is it? Who's there?'

‘It's the mutton birds. I forgot to tell you. It's all right. Come back to bed.' Blair's voice was thick and sleepy.

Jennifer was running her hands along the wall, groping for the light switch. ‘Mutton birds? What's happening to them?'

‘That's the sound they make. They nest on the ground. Probably right outside the door.'

The light on the little verandah came on and Jennifer stepped outside. The ground was faintly illuminated. Several black blobs were squatting close to her. One of the birds stood up, one flapped its wings. They didn't move away but the hoarse groan was picked up and passed from bird to bird in a painful chorus.

‘That's horrible. Are they going to do that all night?'

‘You'll get used to it.'

‘Can't we move them?'

‘Against the rules. Besides, the bastards have sharp beaks. I'll deal with them in the morning when they go back to their nests.'

‘In the trees?'

‘No, underground. They dig holes so be careful you don't trip down one.'

‘Oh, God. This is all I need.' She flipped off the light and in the darkness they resumed their activity with more wails. But above the squawks, squabbles and moans of the mutton birds she heard in the distance another shriek, a cry, a scream.

Jennifer sat up. ‘That wasn't a bird. Was it?'

‘Put the air conditioning on, then you won't hear anything.' Blair rolled over and flung an arm around her hips. ‘Want a cuddle? Make you sleep. I've missed you.' He kissed her belly.

‘Blair, can you check outside? I just have this funny feeling –'

‘Jenny, I'm not going outside to trip over those bloody birds. Unless you want to skinny dip. There's no one around here . . .'

Jennifer got out of bed, pulled the curtain and stepped outside. She looked at the sky. It was dark, clouds covered the moon. She stepped onto the sandy path and recoiled, losing her balance as her foot tripped on a soft squashy bird that grunted and pecked at her foot with a sharp beak that drew blood. ‘Ouch, yuk.'

She leapt back onto the decking and there was a flurry of shadowy creatures around the cabin and nearby trees. She couldn't see them properly. They didn't seem like birds, just fat grey blobs like some underground creatures that had erupted from deep in the earth. They gave her the creeps. Her foot was hurting, she turned to go inside. Then she heard it. A throat-catching sobbing, a being hurrying, crashing amongst the trees, someone in a heedless flight.

‘Who's there? What is it?' she called in alarm, fumbling for the light switch by the sliding doors. ‘Blair, come out here, quickly . . .'

In his underpants Blair flicked the switch and the outside light snapped on.

At the perimeter of the pale yellow arc a figure was hunched, swaying, then it dropped to the ground, rolling into a ball. A young woman was choking on hoarse sobs and cries.

‘Oh my God, what's happened?' Jennifer couldn't move.

Blair rushed forward and stooped over the woman, trying to lift her to her feet. ‘Jesus, what happened to you? Jennifer, quick, help me. It's Rhonda.'

‘Rhonda?' She recognised the auburn hair but as Blair lifted her she saw the bruised and bleeding face, the ripped T-shirt and torn pants. She could barely equate this shattered girl with the bright young woman she'd left only a few hours before.

‘Get her inside. It's all right, Rhonda, come on, try to walk.'

Supporting her on either side they half dragged
her inside. Blair pulled the curtain shut and switched on the inside light, turning off the outside one. ‘Get her some water. No, better, there's a small bottle of brandy in the mini bar.'

Jennifer's hands were shaking as she handed Rhonda the glass with four fingers of brandy in the bottom. ‘Here, drink this. Take deep breaths.'

Sitting up and shivering, Rhonda gagged on the drink. Jennifer suddenly realised that Rhonda's underpants as well as her T-shirt were ripped and she had only one shoe.

‘What the hell happened?' asked Blair. His voice was edgy.

‘Blair, be gentle, let her get her breath,' admonished Jennifer, sitting beside the frightened girl, taking her hand and stroking it.

‘He attacked me. Tried to rape me. When I wouldn't, and started to fight him, he just . . . beat me. He ripped my pants off and then when he started to pull his trousers off I kicked him and ran. I thought I was going to die,' said Rhonda, her Irish accent thick with fear.

‘Who? Who did this to you? Blair, call the police, someone. Do you want a doctor?'

‘Jennifer! Calm down. Let me handle this,' snapped Blair. ‘There are no police here and no doctor. Just a nurse.' Jennifer was shocked into silence. He took Rhonda's other hand. ‘Are you hurt, injured? I mean, cut, any wounds other than this?' He lightly touched her gashed cheek and she winced.

‘Of course she's hurt. Shouldn't we get some help?' hissed Jennifer.

‘Let's find out the details first. Are you sure he was trying to rape you?'

Rhonda gave a look that silenced Blair.

Jennifer pressed Rhonda's hand. ‘What happened after you left me?'

Rhonda drew a shaky breath. ‘I was on the phone outside reception and a group came out of the bar and said they were having drinks by the pool, to join them. I know I'm not supposed to mix with the guests but . . . well, it was late, no one else was around and they were laughing and having a lot of fun. Willsy was with them . . .' Her face screwed up and she took a moment to compose herself before going on. ‘There was one other girl but she left with one of the guys. After one drink I said I should go. They were going to continue partying in one of their suites. Willsy was drunk and trying to kiss and grope me and so I left. I decided to walk around the beach to my room and when I cut into the dunes . . . I was grabbed.'

‘It's all right, Rhonda.' Jennifer was going to say she didn't have to go into painful details, but one look at Blair's tight face told her to keep quiet.

Rhonda shuddered and her voice was a whisper. ‘He grabbed me from behind, put his hand around my neck and mouth so I couldn't scream and pushed me down onto the ground. I hit my face on a rock and I think I was a bit dazed. When I tried to stop him he started swearing and just whammed into me.' Tears began running down her face.

Jennifer went to get the box of tissues from the
bathroom. She felt sick to her stomach. She heard Blair's low, insistent voice.

‘You're sure who it was? It's dark, he came from behind . . .'

Rhonda's head came up. ‘Oh yes, it was Willsy. But . . . he said if I said anything to anyone he'd deny it and the guys would say he was with them.'

‘Well, we can disprove that, surely,' said Jennifer. ‘I mean, did you scratch him or anything?'

‘Leave it, Jennifer. Rhonda, you're sure you didn't do anything to lead him on, you know, why'd he get so mad? Are you absolutely sure he was going to rape you?'

‘Blair! Even if she was flirting, or led him on, nobody deserves a beating like this!'

‘He was drunk. He kept mumbling something while he was hitting me,' whimpered Rhonda. ‘Can I have a shower, please? All I want is to forget this ever happened. Please, please, don't tell anyone.' She began to cry again. ‘I just want to go to sleep, curl up in a ball and make it all go away. My face hurts so.'

Blair stood up. ‘Go and have a shower, Rhonda, we'll look after you. You can stay here tonight.'

Jennifer was still holding Rhonda's hand. ‘You don't think we should report this?'

Rhonda tightened her grip on Jennifer's hand. ‘I'm not reporting this. I beg you not to say anything. I don't want people to think that I was raped. No one will believe he just beat me up. I want to forget this ever happened. Please don't tell Rosie. Don't tell anyone. Ever.'

‘Of course. This will never go outside this room,' said Blair in a soothing tone. ‘Jennifer, help her. I'll get the first-aid kit from reception and clean up those scratches.'

Scratches! Her face looks like she had rocks thrown at it. Why do you want to keep this quiet?
‘Okay, Blair, whatever you say. Come on, Rhonda, you'll feel better after a hot shower. I'll make us some tea.'

Rhonda was still under the shower when Blair hurried back with the small first-aid box. ‘Good, she's still in there.'

‘She's just standing under the water like she's trying to wash the whole thing out of her head and body,' said Jennifer. ‘God, this is awful. The poor thing.'

Blair took Jennifer's arm and turned her to face him, speaking in a low urgent voice. ‘Listen, Jennifer. We have to keep this quiet. Very quiet. No one is to know. It will be a disaster for the resort. If she comes out and accuses a well-known TV person he'll deny it and he has the backing of a powerful TV station and a whole raft of important people. They'll crucify her, and this place. I'm not going to let that happen.'

‘She doesn't want to tell anyone. But it doesn't seem right. That man shouldn't be allowed to get away with it.'

‘It's probably happened before, and probably will again,' said Blair.

‘That's criminal!' exclaimed Jennifer.

‘Would you want to go through the public
humiliation of a trial, have people think you were raped, that you led him on? You know what people are like, always want to think the worst. Where there's smoke . . .'

People like you,
thought Jennifer miserably.

‘It is terrible, but she'll get over it and get on with her life. She's an Irish Catholic, for God's sake, think how that would go down back home if it hit the newspapers here and, innocent or not, her reputation would suffer.'

‘I don't see how you can keep this quiet.' Jennifer was shocked. Shocked at herself for starting to accept Blair's viewpoint. She was already rationalising things to herself. Nothing happened. Rhonda wasn't raped or killed. Blair would be in the firing line, trouble in his first job like this didn't look like he had a firm hand.